


Won't keep watching you dance around in your smoke,and flicker out

by Kindahappened



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Artist!Harry, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, also louis has been cursed, i'm sorry liam isn't here???, it was getting too long i had to make myself stop :(((, vampire!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindahappened/pseuds/Kindahappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way things look like, Louis knows well enough, usually. That’s what happens when you can’t see yourself: you just absorb every single detail, drink them like the most precious nectar. The beauty that surrounds you feeds your imagination, helps you feel the gaps of what you can’t see. Louis doesn’t know what he looks like anymore. It feels like an eternity now - maybe thirty years, maybe forty, he doesn’t even know anymore. He stopped counting when he realised there wasn’t any way out.<br/>How shallow of him, he thinks, to grow tired of the world just because he doesn't quite know the way he interacts with it, isn't quite sure of what role he plays and what use there is in him being out there, half himself, half a shadow.</p><p> </p><p>Or, Louis is a vampire who hasn't been able see himself in almost half a century until he meets Harry, who happens to be the only one who sees him for what he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't keep watching you dance around in your smoke,and flicker out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [being_a_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_a_fangirl/gifts).



> thank you for writing this great prompt! :)  
> "a vampire louis and artist harry au where louis hasn’t been able to see what he looks like for like 400 years (no reflection no pictures etc.) but he meets this uni student with adorably curly hair who won’t go away no matter how many times louis tells him they shouldn’t be friends and so for the first time in half a century louis can finally see the colour of his eyes or the curve of his nose because his cute non-vampire boyfriend harry absolutely refuses to draw anything else now." i didn't find it written anywhere so idk i just thought i would write it to satisfy my desperate needs and maybe others'? i just changed the '400 years' bit into '40 years' because then it wasn't so coherent with the 'half a century' thing and i thought it was a pretty thing to say, "i was blind for half a century until you found me", i don't even know. anyway lots of love, i hope it's not too crappy
> 
>  
> 
> yessssss this is finished! me happy  
> i'm still correcting it and if anyone wants to beta this i'd love you forever  
> title from "Slip" by Elliot Moss  
> disclaimer:  
> i obviously don't own One Direction etc etc  
> also english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry if there's any terrible error

Louis blinks once, twice. The sun slipping through the curtains still seems foreign to him, like a distant friend or enemy - he’s not quite sure - you’ve been running away from for a long time, so long you’ve almost forgotten what he looks like.

The way things look like, Louis knows well enough, usually. That’s what happens when you can’t see yourself: you just absorb every single detail, drink them like the most precious nectar. The beauty that surrounds you feeds your imagination, helps you fill the gaps of what you can’t see. Louis doesn’t know what he looks like anymore. It feels like an eternity now - maybe thirty years, maybe forty, he's not even sure now. He stopped counting when he realised there wasn’t any way out.

Running his hand through his hair - against his rugged fingers, he doesn’t know if it’s soft or just too thin, doesn’t remember the colour very well -, he laughs to himself quietly, the sound echoing in his empty apartment. He had believed it, for a while: thought the task easy, thought that it wouldn’t be so hard to find someone who wouldn’t look _through_ him, but _at_ him. Young and naïve, Louis liked to say, almost a bit fond of his younger, rushed self, who’d ran from boy to boy, helpless. He stays a bit longer in the ray of sunshine, eyes closed, absolutely still. He can feel everything around him, from the light particules of dust twirling to the purring sound of the refrigerator but oddly, finds no comfort in it. He already knows all these details, feels pressured by them: there isn't anything new for him here, and it suddenly feels ridiculous, to stay in this stupid place for such a stupid long amount of time. How shallow of him, he thinks, to grow tired of the world just because he doesn't quite know the way he interacts with it, isn't quite sure of what role he plays and what use there is in him being out there, half himself, half a shadow.

He takes a deep, unusual breath - it makes him cough a little, almost as if his body was surprised to be used - and stands up. His throat is tight but he ignores it, because the burning of thirst has become a usual one he appreciates, the only thing about his body that he can remember and actually feel. He's learnt not to look down, because the sight of his lower body disgusts him. He thinks it's ironic, that the only part he's able to actually look at is one he hates: he hates his thick thighs and skinny ankles, doesn't see the need for such lack of regularity in just one body. But also because he can work out his height, can imagine how terribly short he is when he compares himself to everyone around. At 20 when turned into a vampire, he'd been igorant enough to think that escaping the negative aspects of human life would also magically turn him into a flawless creature - that had quickly turned out to be absolutely wrong.

There's nothing he can do about it, is there? So Louis is at the door in an instant, still hesitating before opening it, even after all these years. He decides to take his time to walk down the stairs though, painfully slow, almost  _human_ again, he thinks. There's a coffee shop he likes which also happens to have walls covered in books and dust, a few streets away from his flat. It reminds him of home, and it might be the only space where he feels safe, because it's warm and empty and full of the old things he loves. It's been a long time, and maybe Niall doesn't even work there anymore, but he decides to try it. The sun splashed on his face still seems a bit too brutal, a bit too foreign: he needs a tiny bit of contact, to get used to it again, maybe. 

He ignores the numerous looks thrown at him -ignores how insecure it makes him feel-, walks straight to The Tree Huts, smiles when he sees a fluff of blonde hair through the shelves. 

"Louis!" Niall almost screams, and the smile that spreads on his face suddenly erases all the amount of regret that was building up inside of Louis. "I thought you were dead!" 

Louis chuckles. "Well, I'm not sure that's a possibility now, little Niall. I thought you might have left the place, after all those months"

"No, you know how much this shithole can grow on you" he says, and Louis had almost forgotten how strong his accent was. He'd also almost forgotten the crooked teeth and the way Niall's smile could spread up into the glow of his eyes, and he suddenly feels a bit warmer at all these details he's allowed to rediscover. "Aw Lou, I actually missed you, bastard. Where have you been all that time? Why didn't you give me news?"

"I...I guess I went through a rough time? Writer's block. Stayed in my flat for a while" - Louis tries to make it sound like a joke but it just ends up sounding empty and sad.

"What, you mean you actually stayed there for the past four months? But didn't you see anyone? Were you ok?" 

"OK, I think the inquisition needs to stop now, or I'll be running back there real soon". He winks just in case, not too sure if he's using the right tone.

"Alright, alright. I'll shut up, but please promise me to stay at least for a little while, yeah? We've got lots to catch up on". Louis' happy he went out.

 

 

He ends up staying for the entire day. It turns out that Niall remembers the way Louis likes his coffee - dark and bitter, no sugar -, but also remembers how Louis likes it to be quiet when he reads, the only sound in the room being the slight humming of Niall when storing the books back in place. He feels good, here; makes a promise to himself to come back, to not let time slip as much as last time. 

He's almost at the end of his book when the bell rings, and he's surprised because there hasn't been anyone in for the entire afternoon, people being too busy enjoying the crowded parks and filthy streets and blinding weather. Louis looks up when he hears Niall's pleased voice welcoming the visitor.

"Harry, mate, how are you doing?"

Harry is tall. Gigantic, even, that's the first thing he notices about him: the way his limbs stretch, especially his legs, but looking firm and strong when they should have been awkward and angular. He's wearing the tightest jeans that make Louis question the actual warmth outside. His broad chest is almost naked, though, the thin shirt he's wearing being open to his belly button. There's a butterfly stretching across his sternum, and it makes Louis put his book on the table, because this boy deserves his attention. There's something unique in the sparrows that almost kiss his collarbones, in the way their wings point to his neck, the way it is so openly cocky and intimate, all at once. His hair is long, terribly long, caressing his shoulders: it looks like chocolate, soft and malleable, with little curls at the end, and around his face. Louis doesn't have the time to take it in, because as soon as he reaches it, Harry's eyes catch his. 

"Louis! This is Harry, my only costumer" Niall says, bright and loud, slamming Harry's back. A smile spreads across Harry's face, and he has dimples that make Louis want to poke him.

"Hi, Louis. You're his other only costumer, I assume?" 

His voice is a bit like honey, a bit like a record player, a bit broken and slow but almost like a purr, melodious. Louis still hasn't moved.

"Mind if I join you?" and Harry doesn't wait for an answer, just reaches Louis' personal space in a couple of immense steps, jumps his way in, his smile intact if not bigger. Louis just looks at the twelve other empty chairs available, feels a bit at loss. When he finally looks back, Harry is already looking at him, a curious spark in his eyes. Even their colours are a contradiction: shifting between grey, blue, green, huge and innocent. Louis decides he can't take any risk.

"Louis' not very talkative" Niall says, bringing Harry a cup of coffee that's covered with cream, "but he's really nice"

"I'm sure he is" and there's a smirk in Harry's voice that makes Louis quirk an eyebrow up, finally meeting his eyes.

"Why this coffee shop, then?" he says, too abruptly, too sharp, just the way he'd imagined it. But it makes Harry laugh. 

"Always coming here after working in the studio. Niall keeps me company, and vice versa"

"The studio?"

"Yeah, I'm a student. An art student." There's an hesitation when he says it, quickly overcome but Louis hears it nonetheless: a hint of apprehension, almost as if he was scared of his reaction. "What about you?" he adds quickly, keen and adorable and Louis' not sure how that makes him feel.

"I'm a writer" he ends up saying, voice still tight. Harry's like a bubble of energy always on the verge of bursting, shifting on his chair and the complete, utter opposite of Louis. There's definitely _something_ here, a dynamic between them that's almost instinctive, and as much as Louis is trying to pull it in the opposite direction, he finds himself fascinated by the boy.

"A writer? How fantastic. Are you in your books?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, do you put your soul into them?" and that's such a random question, Louis thinks, such a stupid one, but it makes the corners of his mouth lift, a little.

"Maybe that's the only shelter it has" he replies, aiming for an answer equally stupid and corny but there's something about the way Harry's face suddenly opens up, head slightly tilted to the side and his cup to the edge of his lips, his eyes eager and almost fascinated.

"That's sad" he says, but there's no pity in his voice. Louis likes that. He likes the way Harry just takes  _in_ what he says to him, doesn't question it, just absorbs and focuses on it, making it look like the absolute center of his attention. "But also beautiful"

"Beauty" Louis replies, "isn't it a terribly abstract concept?". He thinks Harry is beautiful. Beautiful in the way he moves, with a grace that youth shouldn't have. Beautiful in the way he speaks and listens, in the way his dark pupils are blown and his eyebrows slightly drawn together. He's beautiful in the way his entire being seems to be a conflict that ends up in fireworks. But he doesn't tell him, of course, just shoves it in a corner of his mind, even though it seems to be taking over his entire body

"Is it really, though? I think - " he's cut by the sound of the bell and the sight of a raven boy opening the door. 

"Harry we're late!" he says, and it's like an abrupt reminder of Louis' loneliness. Something breaks between them, inaudible.

"Erm, yes, sure, sorry Zayn" and for the first time Harry looks a bit lost, his lip caught between his teeth, head to Zayn, body still facing Louis. "I really have to go, I'm sorry." He stands up, making the table tremble. Louis shuts his eyes for a second.

"Goodbye, Harry" he says, and maybe there's a hint of regret in the back of his voice. Zayn, Harry's friend, is scanning him from the door. It makes him feel uncomfortable but he stares right back, defiant.

"I'll see you, yeah?" he replies, but suddenly everything seems a bit awkward and out of place, so Louis just gives him a tight smile, all he can manage to give him right now.

"Of course, maybe."

"OK, right. Bye Niall! Bye Louis" and he looks at him one more time, almost waiting for something, but when it doesn't comes he walks to the door and leaves, Zayn behind him.

Louis watches them walk away, with a strange, tight feeling in his guts. He watches the darker boy shove Harry's shoulder as they jog to the other side of the street, and saying something to him that makes Harry blush, and Louis looks away. He sees Niall who's staring at him, from the other side of the room, a knowing smile on his lips.

"He'll grow on you" he says, "he always does."

 

When Louis comes back to his flat that night, he slowly unveils the full length mirror in his bathroom, but there's still no reflection for him to see.

 

 

___________________________

 

He stays cross-legged on his bed for the entire night, in a daze he can't quite define. He feels numb and full all at once, repressed rushes of emotions and steady waves of cold. It's a bit like he's a battlefield, and that's something he hasn't felt in a really, really long time. It's almost as if he's been awaken, and he can't help but think that this has everything to do with chocolate curls and changing eyes. He's not sure it's a good thing.

And for that reason, Louis decides that he can't see Harry again.

 

He lasts six days, and twelve hours.

He justifies his trip to the coffee shop by convincing himself that Niall is far too good a person to feel abandoned like he did last time - he's not too sure he believes that Niall had missed him that much, but he repeats it enough to almost make it sound believable. It's cloudy today, and maybe that's also the reason why he leaves the appartement: it'd been way too bright the entire week, and he couldn't seem to be able to bear the weight of it.

The shop's empty when he enters. He stays half in, half out, already cursing himself for being such a fool, for actually believing for a second that Harry would have been here waiting for him, when he hears voices from the basement. He freezes, about to leave because he can't hear Niall's voice, but suddenly there's a mass of brown curls emerging from the stairs and Harry's here, his back turned on him, laughing at something the other voice is saying.

"Listen Zayn, I know how much you love my arse but it's no reason to -" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Louis. There's a rush of blood coming to his cheeks, and suddenly Louis remembers he hasn't drunk for almost a month. He looks down and closes his eyes, trying to decide if it's better for him to run back home or if he could stay, a bit longer.

"Oh, hi, Louis!" he says and his voice a bit higher than last time, clearly embarrassed. "This isn't what it looks like, we..."

"Harry, move, I can't get out if you're in the middle of the stairs!" Zayn's voice cuts him, clearly unaware of the situation, and Louis' hand on the doorknob tightens.

Harry steps out of the way, still looking at Louis, looking at the lack of emotions on his face, scanning his body until he sees that he's clearly ready to leave.

"Please, stay a little bit? I'm sorry, Niall is in the back of the shop, he'll be here soon". He sounds like he's drowning. That makes him want to stay.

"Right, I'll go see him then" he says, the sharpness of his tone ringing in his ears, and in the way Harry's face falls.

He ignores it anyway, walks past him when Zayn emerges from the basement, hair messy and a smile on his face that changes when he sees Louis.

"Shit" he hears him say once he's left the room, "isn't that Louis?" and then nothing for a while except the ring of the bell indicating that they've left. Sliding against the wall, Louis sighs and gradually lets the rush of thirst take over his entire body. It's like a fire that consumes every single part of him, finally freed, and he can feel his fangs growing, the sting of them making his mouth feel sour. He touches them with the tip of his finger, trying to picture them, though the only thing he can imagine is the ridiculous ones he's seen in movies and he's so, so tired.

He hears something move and focuses, but then someone is out from behind the stack of old books and Louis shrinks - he has absolutely no issue, can't get out in the open air like this, has to stay in the dark, but also can't risk to hurt Niall: in half a second he's fading in a corner, absolutely still, hoping that Niall won't notice him and just go away. It's almost working, the other boy walking towards the door humming as always, until Louis' body betrays him, the strong smell of Niall and the restlessness of thirst making him move, just a bit, but enough for Niall to raise his head and look right through Louis.

"Lou, you here?" he says, comes closer, and Louis is absolutely terrified, doesn't know what to do.

"Erm yeah, but I'm really sick, don't come any closer!" his voice is so pinched, and he knows that Niall will notice, so he tries to make a joke that stays half caught in his throat, "I really wouldn't want you to die"

"You sure mate? I can't even see you, give me a sec-" and then Niall is switching the old light on, and Louis thinks that he would gladly die right now, if he had the choice. He tries to hide his mouth with his palms and folds onto himself, but when he looks up he sees Niall's face fall apart, eyes wide open in a mix of terror and shock, mouth gaping a little, and Louis would have laughed at how terrible the entire situation was if he didn't feel like he wanted to drink every single drop of Niall's blood.

"Niall, listen-" but then he uncovers his teeth to talk and everything blends in a rush. Niall passes out, his body heavy and limp in front of Louis, and suddenly he can't control anything, doesn't quite recognise himself. In a few seconds he has Niall pressed against him as he's crouched on the floor, his mouth a few centimetres away from his neck, teeth bared and a slight groan escapes from him, and Louis hates himself but can't control anything anymore, and so with as much restrain as he manages to find he bites Niall, the feeling of fresh, hot blood running on his tongue like the best kind of poison. I'm an animal, he thinks, and I can try to escape it as much as possible, that's just what I am. He drinks a little bit, with the thought that maybe not knowing what he looks like is better, right now, because he's the not sure he could bear the sight of himself, draped over Niall's lanky body, blood dripping from his lips, and that's when the backdoor opens, and Harry sees him.

A few things go though his mind: one, he will never go out of his house ever again. Two, will he have to kill Harry? He feels like throwing up. Three: he can't move, isn't strong enough, won't be fast. Four: he's utterly, absolutely screwed. Harry's lips are slightly apart and his pupils are extremely blown, exactly like Louis remembers them: his huge eyes open and entirely focused on him, but as much as Louis tries, he can't detect any emotion on his face.

When nothing happens for twenty seconds, which feels like forever to him, a painful whine comes out of his mouth: "Harry..."

That seems to make him jump out of his numb state, because suddenly Harry blinks and without looking, closes the door behind him and comes forward, silent. Even like this, he's beautiful, Louis thinks, and he wants to scream. It's too late for anything now, there isn't anything he can say, and even if he wanted to, he's not sure he could. The burning sensation is still there, pressuring inside the pulse.  _Does he think that I'm an absolute monster?_

For a second, Louis is fascinated by Harry's focus, but then is extremely scared of it: what is he going to do? Why hasn't he ran away yet? Why is there trust in his eyes, when there should be horror and disgust? Louis feels like the ghost of himself. But then Harry drops a hand to Niall's pulse and after a few seconds he lets out a silent breath, gently removing the unconscious body from his embrace. He looks at Louis' lips, tainted in blood, and there's a timid smile growing on his face.

"What are you-" Harry puts a finger on his mouth, to shut him up, but Louis feels horrified, especially when he sees Harry's forearm bare, raised in front of him, almost like an offering.  _This is wrong, terribly wrong._

"Drink" Harry nudges, then hesitates before adding, with a voice quieter than before: "just be gentle, yeah?"

Louis would never hurt Harry, and he wants to tell him that, he wants to tell him what a mistake this is, he wants to push him away and never see him again, but he also _needs_ him. Louis isn't sure it's a feeling he knows, this instinctive attraction he feels for the boy, and he wants to tell him to stay safe but he also  _can't,_ because Harry is eager in front of him, offering himself up on a silver platter. A thousand questions race through his mind, but they're all for Harry. 

There's a gulp of air Louis didn't remember needing, but Harry's lips are very pink and his heart is beating very fast, Louis can hear it distinctly, like drums announcing - what? Louis' not sure anymore, doesn't see any sense in the situation: maybe the death of him, but also maybe something new, something unexpected, in the way Harry's dimple timidly makes it way into his right cheek and in the steady look he gives him. A second has passed.

Louis decides to stop thinking, because his body _aches_ to touche Harry's, and so he just takes his wrist between his long fingers - he can feel him shivering at how cold they are - and checks one more time, looking at him from under his lashes and briefly wonders how ironic it is that he feels more scared than Harry is. The curly boy smiles a bit wider and pushes his wrist forward, and that makes Louis' eyes narrow and he suddenly can't focus on anything else but Harry's delicate hand in his, veins pulsating under the clear, pale skin. Harry locks his fingers with his, and Louis feels dizzy. Maybe it's all a dream, he thinks when he feels the skin breaking around his fangs, and he closes his eyes, just for a while.

___________

 

Louis remembers the first boy he thought to be the one. 

His name was Joseph and he was looking at Louis the way you looked at gifts on Christmas as a child: with wonder and anticipation. Joseph was pliable and Louis could work him like plastic: he'd have done anything for Louis, had he asked. Joseph was always eager to learn more about everything, and it's something that had annoyed Louis but also made him feel fond - not everyone had eternity, and he seemed to be aware of that, of the fragility of his own life, because he was always rushing, in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, in the way he read. Louis had been a joyful and unrested boy himself, before the curse had taken away his happiness. He still believed that Joseph could make it right, though, because out of all people Louis knew, he was the only one who could look at him for hours, without moving, and it always made Louis feel fizzy inside.

He always said that there was something quite fascinating about Louis' face, the way it seemed timeless, smooth and crinkled around the eyes all at once. It gave Louis a not so good portrait of himself but he drank every single word, each of them a promise to see himself again, soon. 

But what he remembers best is the look on his face when he had seen Louis hungry for the first time. The words that came out of his mouth, the disgust, the way he had rushed not towards him, but to the nearest exist, to never come again. 

He sees Harry, his forehead resting against Louis' shoulder, quiet moans escaping from his pink, pink lips. His cheekbones are pink, too, and his eyes are closed. Louis knew that most humans found an almost sexual pleasure when vampires were feeding on them; and there was definitely something sensuous about the way Harry's mouth was slightly pinched in concentration, almost as if trying not to loose himself in the feeling of pleasure, to stay focused.

Louis feels full, and it makes his entire body calm down. There's no trace of the previous need and thirst: instead he feels warmth, everywhere. He detaches himself from Harry's wrist as gently as possible, licking quickly the two little dots of red flesh before letting Harry's hand fall on his other shoulder.

"Hi" he says, and his own voice sounds strange to him, delicate and attentive. 

It takes Harry a while to emerge, to gather his thoughts and strength, and Louis makes sure to stay very still, not wanting to scare him away.

"Oops?" Harry finally says, a sheepish smile on his face as he looks at Louis. "That felt really nice"

"Why aren't you freaking out?" Louis finally says, because he has to know, has to prepare himself for what comes next, has to know how to handle this, handle him.

Harry seems to think about it, for real. He looks very thoughtful for a few minutes but then his entire face relaxes, as if he'd given up on trying.

"I don't really know. I'm just...drawn to you, I think?" He blushes again. "I don't really know. I wanted to help. And I thought you looked very beautiful."

Louis takes both his wrists in his hands, slightly pushes Harry away.

"Listen, I... thank you for today. But I think you should stay away from me. I wouldn't want to hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me, Louis! I don't see the problem here, I..."

"You don't see the problem here?" Louis lets out a bark. This boy is unbelievable. "Harry, I'm a vampire. I could snap you in two if I-"

"You wouldn't". Louis wouldn't. 

"I  _could_ , though. I don't control myself when I get too thirsty, for Christ's sake look what I've done to Niall!"

Harry blinks and turns his head to Niall's body, lying on the floor a few meters from them, as if he'd forgotten about him.

"You didn't hurt him, though. He's alive. Maybe you could have snapped him in two as well, but you didn't. Because you're good."

Louis shakes his head. "I'm not, I'm not, Harry. You don't know me. You're just fascinated because it's something you don't know but then you'll-"

"I don't need you to tell me what to do or how I feel" he cuts him, voice cold on the edges. "I'm an adult, Louis"

"You're eighteen"

"Doesn't mean that I don't know know what I want."

"And what do you want, Harry?" 

Harry's face softens and he relaxes before saying softly: "You, I think." It sounds like a secret, like a confession, but he's not ashamed, not shy. He gives it to Louis and it almost sounds loving. Louis can't let himself be trapped again, and he can't take the risk of hurting Harry. So he lets go of his wrists and inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You don't know me" he repeats, "and I can't let that happen."

He holds Harry when standing up, feels ridiculous when looking up at him. "Thank you again. You're really great" he says, conscious of how stupid this is, of how stupid he sounds. He puts back a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. "I'm sorry, Harry. I have to go" but that doesn't seem to be what Harry wants to hear. He opens his mouth to protest but Louis' quicker, turning around to put Niall on his back, and running away without looking at him, once.

Harry stays in the back of the shop for a long time, rewinding the scene over and over again, until his legs start hurting and he stops seeing straight. So he shuts the lights off and closes the café with the key Niall had given him, walking back home thinking of eyes blue like an ocean he'd just drowned in.

 

 

___________________

 

 

Waiting for Niall to awaken is agony. Louis is fidgeting, desperately trying to occupy himself. He cleans the entire flat, buys food -too much- and starts cooking. He used to be a terrible cook and probably still is, but he needs to feel a bit less guilty and so hovers around in the kitchen, making two different cakes and a pie. The smell of it invades the room and he feels proud for not making it burn. That’s when he hears a door opening, at the other side of the flat.

He’s prepared the speech over and over again in his head. Niall feels like warmth and friendship and Louis really, really doesn’t want to loose him. He’ll explain the curse to him, if he has to; he’ll tell him that he had stopped feeding as soon as he could, that the wound will be healed by tomorrow morning. Everything was going to be okay. Niall pops his head through the door of the kitchen, nose wrinkled.

"Louis, what’s that smell? I think I’m terribly hungover." Louis looks at him suspiciously, listening to the rate of his heartbeat -unusually calm. Maybe he has forgotten, maybe he hit his head when he fell?

"You ok?" he asks cautiously, not to sure how to react to Niall being…himself.

"Yeah, I just don’t remember shit! Harry and Zayn got me into this drinking game and..why am I in your flat?"

Right, Louis thinks, this could be so, so much worse. Maybe he needs to play along, maybe Niall actually doesn’t remember.

"Well, you…passed out on me, and Harry was with Zayn downstairs, so I thought I would take you home?" That seems satisfying enough to Niall, who groans.

"Thanks, that’s really nice of ya. Can we eat now?" and Louis starts to think that maybe things will be okay.

 

 

 

It almost becomes a routine.

Every couple of days, Niall comes to Louis’ flat after work. They talk and play video games and just enjoy each other’s company, and Louis starts to think that maybe he’s not so unlucky, after all.

He gradually stops having flashes of himself crouched on Niall’s body, in the yellow, dim light, teeth buried deep inside his neck, whenever he sees the two little red dots. They end up fading, and Louis’ guilt with them.

Sometimes, Niall just comes over and watches television on the couch while Louis is writing at his desk, and they share a comfortable silence that Louis needs. He’d been on his own in this little apartment for years, so much that he’d forgotten what having a friend felt like. He’s thankful and doesn’t quite know what he’s done to deserve having Niall here, but he decides to embrace it. He cooks food for him and sometimes Niall will come with hands full of take-away for the both of them, that Louis will pretend to eat and enjoy because he can see how happy it makes Niall.

They talk, a lot. Or: Louis makes sure that Niall talks about himself, and asks as little questions as possible. Louis doesn’t want to hide, doesn’t want to lie, but he still finds himself telling the same story of a life he’s never lived - left university in the middle of his degree to travel and write, was published for the first time at 20. No friends because he’s always moved a lot and likes being alone, no family because he ran away. He wishes he could just be himself, but he’s not even sure of what that is. Telling someone about yourself when you don’t know what you’re like is like yelling words that never come out of your mouth: it’s useless and echoes empty sounds. He finds some truth in the lies he tells though, and it helps him. The story of his parents is close to what truly happened, but Louis doesn’t tell Niall about the reason why he left. He’s not ready yet.

Niall is life, joy and fire at the same time. He throws light into Louis’ life and fills it with the stories he’s lived. He talks to him about Ireland, about his family, his brother especially - there’s a pressure in Louis’ stomach when he mentions siblings, but he ignores it anyway. He talks to him about his friends, as well, a lot about Harry.

They’d met for the first time in the coffee shop a few months before ("It’s funny", Niall adds, "because we actually met the day after you came in for the last time…" and Louis tries hard to push away the thoughts of Harry and him living a different scenario, one in which maybe, maybe they could have been friends, or at least one in which Louis wouldn’t have to leave. He always leaves). Niall tells him about Harry’s passions, his art work, his family, about his sister Gemma who often comes to visit him - and maybe Niall has a crush on her, maybe. "I mean, if I was gay, I think I’d really try to shag Harry". He laughs, Louis doesn’t. "But I’m not. Gemma looks a lot like him, but as a girl, so… yeah, she’s beautiful. Also very smart". Louis tries to imagine Harry as a girl, but he always comes back to the thought that no one could be as beautiful as Harry is, just that way. He learns a lot about him, and it almost feel as if he was here, with the two of them, telling Louis everything he's desperate to know about him.

It's good, to feel so close to Harry in this way, but also terribly wrong to realise that he's falling in love with the shadow of someone he'll never have.

 

 

 

After eight days, Niall brings something with him.

"It's from Harry" he says, and he looks so smug that Louis wants to hit him.

When Louis just stares at the white envelop in Niall's hand without a word, he adds: "He's been coming every day to the shop, you know. I think he's looking for you."

A pause. "And what have you told him?"

That makes Niall smile. "I've got your back, don't worry. Told him you're really sick, or something, and that I'm the only one allowed to nurse you. But I think it's a shame, Lou. He talks about you a lot. I thought you two had connected -"

"Tell him not to give you anything again" he says, before swallowing loudly. "Let's stop talking about it, please. Food's on the table. Go."

He closes the door behind them and manages to ignore the envelop that Niall had dropped on the kitchen counter for the entire afternoon.

 

 

Once Niall's gone, Louis finds himself sitting on a chair, staring at it from afar. He tries to picture himself burning it, or throwing it in the bin, but he always sees Harry standing next to him, looking at him with his wide eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. Louis' heart pinches. He stands up and takes the envelop between his fingers, the paper inside heavy, thick. He opens it in one quick, clean move and looks at what's inside for a long time.

It's a drawing.

He can recognise the setting very well: it's the coffee shop. He can see the counter in the back, the high walls covered with shelves, the small tables covered with round cups stains, the few plants hanging from the ceiling.

He's amazed by the amount of effort put into the details, into the sunlight slowly illuminating the room, the shadows of the books, the dusty leather chairs. The focus is on the table right next to the window, the one Louis always goes to sit at. There's someone sitting there, he realises, but the drawing doesn't seem finished. He can only see the contours of the figure, almost faded but still visible, and a hand holding a cup of tea, that almost seems to be floating in the air. It's a small hand, almost like child's, if not for the strong veins running on top of it.

Louis doesn't understand why Harry would draw with such intensity the surroundings but forget to finish the center of the drawing. He doesn't understand why he left out the main character, only leaving out the shadow of him. He turns the paper around but there's nothing there for him to read, no clue to help him. He wonders why Harry would give him something like that, what the meaning of it is. 'Maybe he just wanted me to see his art' he thinks, but he can't make himself quite believe it.

 

The next day, Niall comes with another envelop.

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"I did. But he said that you didn't have any right to tell him what to do" Niall replies, sticking his tongue out at Louis, who hesitates before taking it from Niall's hands and ripping it open. It causes Niall to laugh at him, but he ignores it. He turns around and looks at the new drawing.

Same room, same time of the day. The only thing that is different is the character. This time, Louis can tell it's a man. The contours are clearer, and he can see he's quite small, with strong shoulders and strong arms, though the rest of him seems delicate, round in some places. There's still no details, no indication of his skin colour, the clothes he's wearing. It's still a shadow but this time more defined, as if he'd found its way through the paper, solidly anchored on it now.

He's sitting by the same window but this time holding a book that hides most of his face, elbows resting on the table. Louis remembers Zayn and Niall's figures, both tall and long, and he can't find anything common between them and the male in the drawing.

He sighs in frustration and puts it back in the envelop, hides it in his bedroom with the other and joins Niall in the living room.

"You still don't want to talk about it?" Niall says, handing him a Joystick, looking at him expectantly.

"I don't, Niall, drop it", but Louis doesn't sound so sure of himself anymore.

 

Niall's dozing off on the couch that evening when he tells Louis:

"You know, we might end up in turning into a gallery. We might even call it 'Louis' temple". He chuckles.

"What do you mean?" Louis asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, Harry's drawings! I don't even know where to put them now. He keeps drawing you everyday, I can't keep hanging them on the walls, it looks like a "missing person" board."

Louis stays quiet, mind racing.

"Don't you think they're good, Lou? He always makes it look like we can touch you on the paper. Like you're real close to us."

"How would I know?"

"Well, you've seen them, stupid. I've had to restrain him to only give one a day to you, otherwise I think he'd have sent you the entire pile..." Niall whispers, half asleep, and Louis opens wide eyes, unable to move.

 

He couldn't see himself anywhere. Couldn't see himself in mirrors or any kind of reflection, couldn't see himself in photographs, couldn't see himself in drawings. That was the curse, and it didn't have any loophole, Louis had tried them all. Banned to see who he is, what he looks like. If he was the one Harry had been drawing, how the hell could he see ...

He runs to the bedroom and takes the two drawings in his hands, shaking.

His hands. His hands are the same as the man's in the drawings. Small with long fingers and short nails, slightly bitten on the edges. Veins crossing to his knuckles, thumb slightly turned upwards, and what Louis thought to be a shadow around the wrist could be his rope tattoo.

He suddenly feels the need to breathe, chokes on air, stubbles to the bathroom and locks the door behind him. The veiled mirror is there. He looks at the drawings one more time, trying to find any clue that would tell him these are someone else's hands. But _they're mine, they're mine_ he thinks, and his entire being is filled with shock and confusion, as he reaches for the cover on the mirror, and pulls it down.

 

He's _here_.

Not complete, not full, but he's here. He can make out the lines of his body, slim torso and rounder hips and thighs, small feet, small hands. He touches the mirror with the tip of his fingers, mouth open in awe, almost checking that the reflection won't fade away.

It stays. It stays for as long as Louis looks at it, touching himself and seeing the reflection do just the same, fingers running along the lines of his body. He doesn't have more information that he had in the drawings, doesn't know the look of his face of stomach but he's here, and he wants to scream with everything he has, because _he's not blind anymore_ , he's not sure how or why, but that's the least of his worries right now, because he can _see_.

 

 

In the morning, the postman brings a new drawing. There's a note in here, in small, clean handwriting, that quotes  _Won't keep watching you dancing around in your smoke, and flicker out_. It sounds like a song. More, it sounds like all the promises he's ever wanted to hear, except this time, it sounds right.  
Louis' heart feels like it's going to explode.

He can see the man's face. He has high cheekbones and a narrow jawline, a small nose above a full mouth that stretches upwards at the edges. There's a light stubble that gives a certain ruggedness to the quite delicate features, but it's the eyes that catch Louis' attention. They're blue, a deep blue that reminds him of no colour he's seen before. Long, long lashes frame the almond-shapes eyes and Louis has to remind himself, this is me.

He takes his time now, hands shaking again, touching his own face, trying to draw his own picture mentally by the edges and angles he feels, and suddenly he feels a tear rolling down his cheek, and he smiles.

He'd never been able to cry since he's been turned.

He slowly walks to the bathroom, where the sheet still lies on the floor, untouched. After a second of hesitation that comes from the disbelief of the moment, he steps in front of the mirror, and sees himself.

For the first time in half a century, Louis can see what he looks like.

He sees the colour of his eyes and the curve of his nose and the hollow of his cheeks. He sees the crinkles and small scars and every single detail, from the plump of his lips to the sharpness of his cheekbones. He sees his hair, feathery and brown and sticking out, long enough to fall on his forehead, lightly. He sees himself, tan and strong and he is beautiful. Louis laughs, he laughs until his stomach hurts and his vision gets blurry, a laughter filled with joy and relief, a laughter that relieves all the pain and anguish and finally says: _I am here, I can see it now_.  
Everything becomes very clear to Louis, as if a cloud had been lifted and he runs to the door because it was Harry, all along, and how could Louis have been so stupid?

 

He runs to the coffee shop and slams the door open, scanning the room and then he sees him, sitting on Louis' usual chair, drawing.

Harry looks up and Louis swears that time stops when their eyes meet.

"Harry" he says, and there are so many things that he wants to say, but his name is the only thing he can give right now, as he stumbles towards him, Harry meeting him halfway, eyes crowded with relief and love. They collide into each other and Louis buries his face in Harry's neck, inhaling the scent of musk and ambre that comes out of him, whispering thank yous that he plants like kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his ear.

Harry feels strong against him when he whispers back in Louis' hair: "I knew you'd come"

Louis laughs, the same laugh that feels endless but this time it's lighter, happier, this time it says _you saved me_ and _i love you_ and _i won't leave, ever_.

They say nothing for a while, bodies pressed tight against each other, limbs tangled in the middle of the empty shop, the sun embracing them, and Louis has never felt more alive.

"You don't understand, Harry" Louis says, "it's you" and there's an echo of disbelief in his voice that makes Harry giggle.

"It's me" he repeats, "and I always knew it was you, from the second I saw you sitting here, Louis"

Louis shakes his head vividly and detaches himself from Harry to cup his face with hands that don't feel so cold anymore.

"No no, you don't understand. It's you, you were the only one who could break the curse"

Harry frowns, confusion in his eyes. "What curse?"

"Forty years ago I... I was so angry against the world, my parents who had rejected me for who I was and the person I thought was the love of my life betrayed me and I just, I was turned into a..." he chokes on the world "I was turned and suddenly I could do whatever I wanted, I was strong and I wanted to make them pay, I just..." he searches disgust into Harry's eyes, still can't find any, and it gives him strength to keep going "I did a lot of wrong to a lot of people and that's why I was cursed, and she told me that I would never know myself again until I found someone who would truly look at me and love me for what I am and..." he laughs again, hysteric this time, smile wide "for forty years no one would, Harry, and I was nothing until I met you. You.. You gave me back my soul, Harry, you made me see myself again" and Harry's breathe quickens, his heartbeat gets faster.

"The first day we met" he says, "Zayn arrived before I could finish. And I wanted to say-"

"It doesn't matter Harry, it doesn't matter, we have all the time in the world now-"

"No, listen. The first day I met you I just felt it. I felt like a link between us that compelled me to come to you, and you... You looked so far from the world but you felt close to me Louis, so close my skin was burning and I wanted to say it to you, that day, I wanted to tell you that I thought you were so, so beautiful."  
Louis closes his eyes and drops his hands to his sides. "Soulmates" he says, laughing, "One day Niall told me that you came in the café the day after I left it for the first time, and I thought, I thought that maybe we were could have been soulmates"

Harry takes him in his arms tighter, and Louis shudders at how natural this feels, as if their bodies had been carved to fit into each other.

"I think I'm in love you" he murmurs, and Harry lifts Louis' chin to look at him, locking their gazes together.

"I see you" he replies, voice shivering but very much still _his_ , warm and soft, and he seals their lips together, in a kiss that says _i love you too_ and _you're here, i'm not letting you go._

Kissing Harry back, Louis thinks that maybe he wasn't entirely blind but just missing a part of himself, one that he could only find in Harry's eyes. 


End file.
